


On a Bridge in Londinium

by rileywrites



Series: Bridge, Tower, Table [1]
Category: King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Arthur is boss, Back Lack is in love, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, the birth of Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: "Oi, Art. Business now or later?""Later, you daft bastard. Between the route and George and the patrons, I'm bloody whipped.""We'll talk in the morning, after we handle the morning take. Get some sleep, Art. It's almost hols, so it's gonna be a busy few weeks." Wet Stick disappears, then reappears in the doorway. "Feel free to sleep in. Lack and I can handle it.""You know me better than that, mate."





	On a Bridge in Londinium

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Arthur is four when Camelot falls. This takes place when he is 16 and Back Lack is 20.

Vortigern's Rule, Year Twelve

...

"I'll see you again, then." Bess flushes happily and hands over his pay. "The next time Joseph is away."

"I'll be counting the hours."

Arthur's smile drops the moment she's out of the door. He climbs the stairs to his bedroom, washes up with the water Isolde left him, and crawls into bed. Wet Stick pokes his head in the door.

"Oi, Art. Business now or later?"

"Later, you daft bastard. Between the route and George and the patrons, I'm bloody whipped."

"We'll talk in the morning, after we handle the morning take. Get some sleep, Art. It's almost hols, so it's gonna be a busy few weeks." Wet Stick disappears, then reappears in the doorway. "Feel free to sleep in. Lack and I can handle it."

"You know me better than that, mate. Now fuck off."

Lucy crawls into bed in the wee hours of the morning, poking at Arthur until he budges over to give her room.

"Helena is entertaining still." Lucy snuggles close, and Arthur has enough presence of mind to cover her with his furs. "And I can't sleep alone."

"No need for excuses, Lu." Arthur kisses her hair. "Just cuddle in. Get some sleep."

"Yes, Arthur." Lucy snuggles even closer, her head on his chest. "G'night."

...

Arthur wakes with a start, knocking Lucy to the side without meaning to. She tightens her grip on his waist.

"Just a dream, Arthur. Just a dream. You're okay." She grumbles, kissing his shoulder. "Sleep. You're safe with me."

The idea of Lucy protecting him is a pleasant absurdity, anchoring Arthur in the moment. The blonde woman and the firey warrior fade back into the darkness they sprung from.

"There now, you're good." Lucy tugs the covers back up around them. "Sleep."

"I'll try." Arthur wraps arm around her, fisting his hand in her shift to prove she's real. "Sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologize. Just sleep."

...

Arthur hits the ground with a grunt, the air knocked out of his lungs. Every muscle in his body is aching, and his head don't stop ringing.

"Arthur, up. Again."

He glares at George even as he climbs to his feet. He really should not be fighting Dell, not yet. Even he can admit he isn't ready.

"Fine, fuck. Keep your skirt on, George."

It's cold, breath fogging in the air as they fight, but all Arthur feels is heat. Dell is smirking at him, the bastard.

"Alright, Dell, come at me."

He holds his own, keeping his face covered and staying on his feet much longer this time.

(It's still not a long time, but progress is progress.)

Dell picks Arthur's sorry ass up off the ground the next time he bests him.

"C'mon, Art, let's go to the pub. First round on me."

Arthur wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll hold you to it."

Wet Stick hands Arthur his coat, smirking.

"I'd like to see you do better."

"I can't. It's why I don't train with Dell, boss. I know I'm not ready, and I'm not stupid."

He has a point. Arthur won't admit it out loud, but he has a point.

"Am I bleeding anywhere? You know Mary won't let me in the place if I'm gonna bleed on her furniture."

"Nah, mate, you're good. Let's go."

...

Old Edgar dies in December, and Andrew the steward calls a house meeting.

"He did not leave a proper will, so technically it falls on my hands to choose an heir. Does someone have an idea?"

"Arthur," Lucy says immediately. "Arthur knows everything there is to know, and he's young so he can take care of us for ages and ages."

"Seconded," Back Lack and Wet Stick say as one.

"Now, come on, lads. I'm only sixteen, won't be seventeen til after Christmas--"

"I agree," Lily says, surprising everyone in the room. "Arthur's been taking care of us since he was old enough to do so."

It's Catherine that seals the deal. As one of the oldest working women and the de facto head whore, her vote means more than nearly anyone else's.

"Arthur should be Edgar's heir." She looks around the room for argument. "That's settled, then. Andrew, draw up the necessary papers."

Arthur would have something to say, some sort of thank you or another, but something more exciting happens.

"Lack? Cat? It's happening." Anna groans. "Fucking hell, I'm going into labor."

Catherine and Back Lack are at Anna's side in an instant, helping her stand so they can get her to a private room.

"Addy, grab the birthing stool, and Lizzy, find more towels. This baby is coming."

They close the house for the night, both to honor Edgar's passing and to await the birth of Anna and Back Lack's child.

Cat won't let him in to see Anna in her pains, so Arthur ends up pacing the hall instead. Her cries are like nothing he's heard before, the first woman he's known well enough to keep vigil during the lying in. 

It's near three in the morning when the yelling stops, but there isn't a cry from a babe for intolerably  long minutes. Then, finally, the child begins to cry.

Arthur sighs in relief, laughing in exhaustion and excitement as he realizes the baby is alive.

"Art, get your arse in here, mate. You're the fucking godfather, ain't ye?"

Arthur opens the door to find an exhausted Anna being led to bed, a wee bundle in her arms. Arthur goes to her side the moment she's settled, kissing her forehead and sweeping her hair from her face.

"Proud of you, Anna. You did good, yeah? Baby's safe and sound."

"The poor thing was blue there for a bit. I wasn't sure if I had really brought a child into the world." Anna hugs her baby to her chest. "But he's perfect, Arthur."

"It's a boy," Back Lack says, grinning. "We've got a boy. Our little blue boy."

Anna smiles, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Yeah, we do."

"Has he got a name?"

"Gawain," Anna says, with a nod. "His name is Gawain, after my father."

"It's perfect, just like he is. And just like his mum." Arthur looks over at Back Lack and grins. "Seems you lucked out, picking a wife so perfect. He doesn't look a bit like your ugly ass."

"Good." Back Lack laughs, staring at his little family fondly. "Good."

...

Back Lack and Anna move into a tiny apartment in the attic near Arthur, away from the bustle of the rest of the house.

"I'll entertain again once he's weaned," she promises. "I mean to earn my keep, Art."

"You'll keep," Arthur says, waving off her concerns. "Just focus on keeping Blue fed and happy, yeah? He's the important part. Besides, I'm master of the house, now. I get to make sure my people are taken care of."

Blue coos, and Arthur takes one teeny hand in his own. The babe has a strong grip for one so small, his mother's looks and his father's tenacity.

"Nothing's ever gonna hurt a hair on your head, right, Blue? Not as long as I'm your godfather."

 


End file.
